Kryptonite
by SpazzyRussian
Summary: Songfic, America x Russia. What happens when a hero just isn't a hero anymore-peeled to the core, you can see his very being, and you know that something is wrong. Derp description, a bit better inside. T for mental instability.


Kryptonite

Songfic!

Pairing: Russia x America

A/N: I really love this song. A while back I realized that he was singing about Superman, and well, isn't Al always calling himself the hero? This was on my (very short) one-shot list, but I never got around to it til now. I still take one-shot requests, so send 'em in!

The lyrics are in italics and the story is in regular type. I cut short the amount of choruses, since I can only make so much material out of them. Wow...this turned out a lot longer than I thought it would. I'm no good at writing serious things, so please leave me feedback on how to improve!

Um, I'm so sorry. I kind of made Alfred go just a _leetle_ bit insane in this fic. So, um, yeah. Any weirdness, blame it on my strange tastes.

Please enjoy!

Number of words: 1505

Disclaimer: I do not Hetalia nor 3 Doors Down.

_I took a walk around the world _

_to ease my troubled mind_

_I left my body lyin' somewhere in the sands of time_

_Well I watched the world come to the dark side of the moon_

_I feel there's nothin' I can do_

_Yeah~_

America's big blue eyes quivered as they shot from side to side. He was curled up into a ball in a corner in his house—what part of the house he wasn't exactly sure. He was in so much pain. Pain. It surrounded him like a blanket. He whimpered as various cuts and gashed opened up across his body. His people were tearing their own country to pieces, mentally and physically. The riots, the protests, the politics...it was going to kill him. It had to be someone's fault. But whose?

He had to get away. It was like...almost as if he didn't know his own people anymore. Maybe they had been abducted by aliens and replaced with fakes that were sure to destroy him. Yes, that had to be it. As his mind flitted from one crazy thought to the next, his subconscious urged his body out of the corner, to the car, to the airport, onto the plane.

He ignored all the weird looks from the airport staff as he dashed onto the next available flight with no luggage. He jiggled his foot impatiently, a tic forming in his forehead. Why did it take so long for planes to take off? Couldn't they see he was trying to escape complete and total destruction here?

_I watched the world come to the dark side of the moon_

_After all, I knew it had to be something to do with you_

_I really don't mind, what happens now and then_

_As long as you'll my friend, in the end_

America fidgeted constantly. No, he didn't want any roasted peanuts. No, he didn't want a complimentary beverage. _No_, he _didn't_ want a pillow! Couldn't these damn flight attendants learn that he wanted to be left alone? For all he knew, they were androids trying to take over his mind. That was always what happened in the movies. The hero would almost be incapacitated by the inconspicuous minions of the bad guy, but the hero would always prevail.

Bored out of his mind, he looked out the window and gasped. A beautiful crescent moon filled the sky. But what attracted his attention about it wasn't the light that was glowing dimly from it, not the various craters and mounds that gave it it's beautiful shading. No, it was the invisible part. The part not being reflected by the sun, the part he couldn't see. What could possibly be lurking there that Alfred wouldn't be able to detect until it was too late? They must be spying on him! He drew the shade on the airplane's small window, and drew his legs to his chest. Laying his head down on the denim that covered his knees, he wrapped his arms around his shins and thought about random things until the plane landed.

He was the first to dash off the plane, first to hail a taxi and tell the driver where to go, struggling with his obvious lack of the foreign language. His people had immigrants from just about everywhere, which meant of course he picked up on languages a bit, but it was still so _difficult_.

Alfred tapped his foot against the taxi door as it sped through the streets of the busy city, and began to relax just the littlest bit as it began to drive through an older part on the outskirts, where the owners were a bit richer and the houses were a lot bigger, and further apart.

He paid the driver, not bothering to ask for any change, just slammed the car door behind him and watched the red lights on the bumper blink as it drove away. He suddenly shivered, noticing the cold.

Turning to the slightly-familiar house, he gently opened the gate and power walked up the little walk. Disregarding possible neighbors, he pounded on the door until it opened up.

The tall blonde that opened the door was wearing rumpled clothes and had heavy bags under his eyes. It was obvious that the American had woken the giant from what little sleep he had.

"What...Alfred?" the blonde's tone instantly went from menacing to concerned. "Why are you on my doorstep at three in the morning?" he ran his hands through his sleep-tousled hair.

"Just let me in, dammit! I'm freezing my ass off out here..." Alfred tried to put on a facade of his normal attitude, failing as tears began to leak from the corners of his eyes. Another cut opened up on his cheek, tinting the tear pink as it ran down his face. "I-I d-don't know what to do..." he sobbed, leaning into Ivan's chest.

Obviously confused, the Russian man led Alfred into his house, gently clicking the door shut behind him.

_If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?_

_If I'm alive and well, will you be there a-holdin' my hand?_

_I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman,_

_my, Kryptonite_

Alfred sat on Ivan's couch, nursing a mug of tea. He gazed into the murky brown-red depths, smelling bergamot but seeing other things entirely.

Ivan sighed as he sat down on the recliner facing Alfred. "You came here to escape the people that are ravaging your country?"

America nodded mutely, tear stains on his cheeks shining in the dim light.

Ivan frowned. "америца, I doubt that they were directly after you. The pain will still reach you, even if you are in a foreign country."

"But..." Alfred whispered. "The scaries didn't follow me. Well, they did, but you're here, so they aren't." His azure eyes were haunted and clouded over as the hands holding the mug trembled and he began to sob again.

_You call me strong, you call me weak but still your secrets I will keep_

_you took for granted_

_all the times I never let you down_

_You stumbled in and bumped your head, if not for me then you'd be dead_

_I picked you up _

_and put you back on solid ground_

Russia frowned. This _was_ America, right? And not an imposter? His greatest enemy, rival, friend, the highlight of the meetings, his sunflower. Falling to pieces before his eyes.

He could not let anyone know of this, he decided. He would not reveal Alfred's secrets to the world. He gently rose from his seat on the recliner and moved around the coffee table as quietly as he could, and sat down next to Alfred. He hesitantly placed his arms around the smaller blond, not quite sure if his advances would be rejected or not. Much to his surprise, the American leaned into the embrace, his tears absorbing into Ivan's rumpled cotton T-shirt. He extricated the mug from Alfred's hands before the tea was spilled and placed it on the coffee table next to his.

He rubbed circles into America's back, murmuring reassurances and comforting consolations.

_If I go crazy then will you still call me Superman?_

_If I'm alive and well, will you be there a-holdin' my hand?_

_I'll keep you by my side with my superhuman,_

_my, Kryptonite_

As he held him, Ivan was a bit surprised when a hand found his and interwove their fingers together. He rocked Alfred back and forth as the American sobbed, and gradually moved him onto his lap so he could hold him better. They stayed like that til the sun rose, neither one getting any sleep, simply basking in the other's company.

They both jerked out of their thoughts when Russia's alarm clock went off upstairs at six. Ivan muttered apologies as he lifted America off his lap and onto the couch again, ran upstairs, and returned when he had successfully muted the alarm.

By the time he had gotten back downstairs, America had picked himself up off the couch and tugged at his clothes, smoothing out most of the wrinkles.

"Hey, commie bastard!" he said with a grin. "Anyone hears about this and I personally murder you, got it?"

Ivan allowed himself a small smile; his sunflower was back and livelier than ever.

Alfred walked over to him, and all things, gave the Russian a hug.

"Thanks for everything," he muttered into the taller man's shirt as Ivan wrapped his arms around the smaller.

"Come back any time," Ivan breathed into the cornsilk-colored hair. "I enjoy your company, Amerika. Even when you are just the littlest bit insane."

"What, I, you...!" America sputtered. He stopped and grinned. "The hero doesn't comprehend insanity! He just enjoys the company of others, even when they are commie bastards."

Ivan waved goodbye as Alfred got into a taxi and went back to the airport. That damn little American knew just how to push his buttons.


End file.
